


Meeting a Dragon

by mitsukai613



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anthropomorphic!Smaug, M/M, dragon!Smaug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smaug gets caught in an awful storm and crashes in the Shire, just outside Bag End. Bilbo and his family help him on Bilbo's request, and in exchange, Smaug warns them of a small orc troupe coming in their direction and kills them for the hobbits once he leaves. Imagine Bilbo's surprise when, many years later, he encounters the exact same dragon in a mountain he's meant to help reclaim for his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                The storm began early one morning with distant thunder and dark clouds. My father looked nervous; our gardener had just planted a rather fragile crop of flowers earlier that week, expecting that there would be little rain in the coming weeks, as was normal for that part of the year. My mother, on the other hand, seemed almost excited. She’d always loved the rain, I knew that; when I was very young she and I would bound through the rain and muddy our feet and our clothes, grinning and laughing while my father smiled from the window and made us hot tea to drink when we came inside. I don’t think that either of them expected what the storm would bring with it, though—truly, no one could have.

                I left home to buy the week’s groceries and a new handful of the flower seeds in case the originals were washed away. The rain started mere moments after the door closed behind me and my mother and father both laughed at my luck, scrubbing my hair and offering me a plate for elevensies. We spent that day inside, watching the wicked storm tear through the Shire. It was the fiercest storm I’d ever seen, with lightning splitting the sky into countless pieces, and toys and flowerpots and branches flying by the window, clacking and crashing against the earth. The thunder was loud enough to shake Bag End, and a shadow passed over our house, darkening our view outside the window even further. None of us knew what it was, but all of us, even my ever-brave mother, were afraid when we heard it crash outside, only a bare few feet away.

                They wouldn’t let me go out with them to see what it was, but I heard their muffled yells of surprise, heard a low, rumbling noise that was like thunder but wasn’t. I crept outside after them and only barely fought back a noise of my own fear.

                A dragon lay in our yard, crushing the garden and all the equipment therein, its breath unsteady and labored. Its scales shimmered red and gold, black claws curling and uncurling in the dirt, and one of its wings draped limply at its side while the other twitched, almost flapping. I couldn’t tell if its skin was slick with blood or rain or both and I edged a little closer—I knew it was hurt even if I knew nothing else.

                “We have to help it,” I said, my parents jolting at the sound of my voice, but they nodded at me even still. They’d wait until later to be angry with me for disobeying, I supposed, but for then there were greater things to worry over.

                “There isn’t much we can do for it in this weather, and it’s not as if we can get it inside,” my father murmured, my mother’s hand on his arm as she watched the creature thoughtfully, as if thinking of a way we _could_ get it inside even though it was larger than the whole of Bag End, much less the door.

                “I am not an _it_ ,” the creature hissed, slow and low and pained, “And I am not so weak as to be unable to still shift my shape.” The pride in his voice was strange and almost out of place, but so obviously _there_ that I could not ignore it. I watched his skin ripple, his massive body shrinking slowly, until at last a man-sized shape lay on the ground, nude and clutching at one bloody arm. I flushed but helped my parents get him to his feet and walk him inside. We sat him on father’s chair and my father searched for blankets to wrap him in while my mother and I tried to tend to his arm.

                He growled at us more than once, baring teeth just slightly too sharp to really be a man’s, gold eyes flashing with pain and anger both. The nails of his good hand, pointed to claws, dug into the chair arm until bits of stuffing spilled forth. His skin felt too hot when I tried to hush him, but I didn’t know if it was from fever or simply a side effect of the fire that burned in his chest. He accepted what little comfort I could offer, though, leaning into my hand when my mother did something that hurt, and he let my father wrap him in layers of blankets. I held my breath until at last the blood stopped flowing and my mother wrapped a tight bandage about his arm. My mother stepped away and I tried to follow, but he gripped my arm tightly and kept me still.

                “Stay,” he said, eyes freezing me where I crouched beside him, “Stay, and I will tell you of what brought me here. I can see that you are curious.” I swallowed thickly, my parents shifting behind me, their eyes surely fixed on the clawed hand around my arm, and slowly, carefully, I nodded. The hand relaxed and I settled more comfortably beside the chair. He spoke slowly, voice rising and falling like an ocean, telling stories of where his life had been and his plans to find the richest mountain on Middle Earth. My parents stayed to listen to his tales as well, and the sound of his voice sent us all into a deep, restful sleep.

                The next morning, he was gone, leaving only a small note written in sharp, scratchy Westron, thanking us for our help and promising to repay us as best he could. We never spoke of the dragon’s visit to anyone, though we surely had enough questions as to how our yard came to be so ruined. I never forgot it, of course; after my mother and father died, and I was left in Bag End alone, it grew to be one of my most precious memories, the most exciting adventure I’d ever had.

                Despite that, I had no reason to suspect that the dragon the dwarves spoke of was the same one that had crashed in the Shire on that fateful day. That didn’t stop me from feeling like a fool when I crept into the treasury and saw him lying atop the mountain gold, somehow even more massive than he had been when first I saw him, golden eyes fixed on my face and a low laugh rumbling through my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the short chapters so far, but hopefully they'll get longer as I find a little more time to write again! Anyway, I hope you guys can keep on enjoying it despite the length!

                The dragon stood very slowly, and I felt frozen under his stare as he stepped from the pile of gold and lowered his head down to almost look me in the eye. My ring felt warm and weighty in my pocket, nearly begging me to put it on and get away, but I could not bring myself to twitch even a finger towards my pocket. The dragon too in a deep breath and I thought that I would surely be incinerated right where I stood, but instead he only laughed again, thin tendrils of smoke drifting between his deadly sharp teeth. I did not speak, nor move, but I felt a sweat break out over the back of my neck and I knew that if I tried to even take a step back I would almost surely faint.

                “Hobbit,” he nearly purred, “So strange to see you again. I admit I did not expect it, but I admit also that I am not entirely displeased. Did you search me out?” My hands started shaking and I wondered how I could have possibly been so foolish as to be unafraid of him when he was in the Shire.

                “Yes,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady and probably failing quite spectacularly, “Yes, I did. It’s been so long, I’d wondered if you found that mountain you spoke of.” He laughed again, back foot scraping through a pile of golden coins, apparently just to hear them click softly together.

                “You are a good liar, oh Hobbit who saved my life. I’m sure the dwarves who sent you here would be glad to hear that, wouldn’t they?” My mind flashed back to that night in the storm, how poor a patient he’d been, and sighed. Later, I’d find the time to be horrified at myself that I’d dared do such a thing when there were a thousand ways he could’ve killed me right that second.

                “Don’t be so melodramatic, you wouldn’t have died whether we helped you or not, though with the way you reacted one might’ve thought we were the ones killing you. It was only a small burn, after all, and it looks to have healed well. My father’s chair, on the other hand, never quite recovered.” He snorted, more smoke spilling from his mouth and nose, and edged a little nearer, close enough that he could’ve swallowed me whole if he wished to do so. I spared a moment to regret speaking so frankly.

                “I am glad you still have a bite—I’d feared the years had taken it. I think that you are the first to call an injury gained from a lightning strike but a small burn, however, and I regret to say that had it been left untreated I might not have flown again. More than one young, unwary dragon has been sent to earth for such carelessness as I showed that night; I saw the heat crackling in the air and thought that I could fly faster. Instead I found myself on your garden, admittedly more than a little upset. In any case, I repaid my debt to you and yours.” I swear that he shrugged, then, as if what he said meant nothing, and I wondered when he was going to kill me, why he felt the need to say all this before he did.

                “Is that so? I only saw a garden we had to have replanted and a chair that needed re-stuffing.” I truly wished that Thorin were in there with me so that he might’ve given me a good, hard kick to make me stop talking.

                “I will try to remember the importance of gardens and chairs the next time I am killing an orc-pack bent on destroying precious little Hobbit towns.” I frowned. “You didn’t know? I’d have thought someone would have ventured far enough to have found the bodies, and assumed the… cause of death would have told at least you and yours what had happened. I saw them marching below me towards your village as I flew above, and after I left your home I walked back to them and killed them, then continued on my way here. Apologies for not dropping by your home again and sticking a note to the door.” I laughed, then. Couldn’t help it, really, it was all just so terribly ridiculous, unbelievable in a way I’d never dreamt that my life would be.

                “Of course I’m grateful, but I’m afraid it’d be best if you left now.” He chuckled, butting against my chest with his nose, surely light to him but nearly sending me sprawling to the floor.

                “I think not—I took the mountain fairly, and I will not give it up for nothing. How did those dwarves convince you to follow? Did you tell them you’d met a dragon and lived, and they thought you some wicked dragon slayer?” I cleared my throat.

                “A wizard told them that I was a burglar. I expect you’re about the only dragon in the world that knows the smell of a Hobbit, after all—any other dragon and I’d have been able to sneak in unnoticed. You say you won’t leave for nothing. What will you leave for?” Curse my luck, I wanted to say, but didn’t. He didn’t smile, precisely, but did bare his teeth in a crude imitation that made gooseflesh rise over my arms.

                “I have no love for dwarves, but I might be willing to negotiate with them, should you mediate. After all, you know us both.” He looked amused, completely so, a strange shimmer in the molten gold of his eyes. A rather foolish thought lingered in the back of my mind: he could’ve at least pretended to be somewhat wary of me, rather than showing with ease that I wasn’t even the faintest threat to him.

                “At least show me where the Arkenstone is. If I give them that, they’ll see it as a gesture of good faith.” Another snort.

                “You must think I’m stupid, if you expect I will simply hand over that which those dwarves value above all else in this room. No, the Arkenstone stays here, wicked thing that it is, but I offer these instead if they must have their good faith,” he said, scooping up a handful a clear, white stones and a rather lovely necklace that was decorated with them, and placing them into my hands. “Hm. They don’t suit you as well as I’d thought they would. Too flashy, I suppose. Alas. Perhaps I shall seek something better while you try to convince the dwarves to parley. I wish you luck, of course, but I think that I will be impressed if you manage to return with them. Dwarves are not known for their willingness to negotiate, after all.” I hardly heard a word he said about the jewels, too focused on what he’d said next because I feared that he was right, no matter how much I cared for the Company.

                I hadn’t the faintest idea how I’d convince the Company to talk, nor even if I _should_ convince them as I had no guarantee that the dragon would not burn us to death the moment I brought them inside. I really should have guessed it would not be so simple as slipping in and snatching a single jewel; honestly, what part of this quest had gone at all as planned? My heart pounded in my chest and my palms were so slick that I was sure I’d drop everything I carried as I made my way back to the outside. The Company and I both held our breath as I stepped into their sight again at last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I've missed so many weeks again, guys! I really do swear it'll get better come January, though!

                I stepped closer to them as confidently as I could, clutching the white stones as tightly as I could. Balin raised his eyebrows at me and Thorin clenched his jaw, arms crossed tight across his chest. The others just looked worried and uncertain, their faces stiff and dark. I realized for the first time how afraid most of them had been that I would die inside the mountain.

                “Laddie, I’m afraid that none of those are the Arkenstone,” Balin said, likely regretting telling me that I’d know it when I saw it, and I forced a quiet chuckle, desperately trying to settle their nerves.

                “I realize. Smaug was already awake, you see, when I went into the mountain. He gave me these for you as a gesture of good faith. He’s willing to negotiate the mountain’s return.” I said it as calmly as I could, but it did nothing to prevent the explosion I’d expected.

                “Negotiate?” Thorin snarled, taking a half step towards me, “It wants to negotiate, you say! More like it wants us all in there that we might be more easily incinerated! And you, hobbit, why have you fallen for it? You’ve been told more than once of a dragon’s deceitful nature, I’m certain, and I’d thought you were clever enough not to bend whenever someone offers you a few pretty words.” I felt too warm, and offered the gems and the necklace made of them so that I might distract myself from what I knew had to be said next. Thorin took them, Arkenstone or not, and spread them evenly between the company, even leaving a few in my hands despite how little use I had for them.

                “I’ve… I swear I didn’t realize this before I left on this quest, but I have met Smaug before, when I was a child. He fell from the sky and onto my family’s garden—we helped him, and he repaid us by killing a pack of orcs coming towards the Shire. Even now I think he’s still fond of me, though. We don’t have to shed any blood to resolve this, if only you’ll try to speak with him.” Thorin’s face darkened even further and I could see how close he was to snapping. Balin could as well, given the hand he settled on his shoulder, face soft and understanding.

                “Fond of you?” Thorin bit, “It’s _fond_ of you, of course. After all, if not for you it could not have come here. It could not have taken the rightful home of my people, my kingdom, could not have killed so many! Who could it be _fonder_ of than _you_?” Balin squeezed his arm and the others frowned, finally seeming to break from their frozen state to take a half-step towards us.

                “Settle, Thorin. It isn’t as if he could’ve known.” Thorin only laughed, but it sounded false.

                “It’s a dragon, Balin. Why would anyone help one, when there have been none who’ve wrought anything but destruction? Of all the things our burglar is, Balin, he is not stupid. He knew what it was even if he didn’t know precisely what it would do.” Balin spoke again, but in a foreign tongue I didn’t understand, and Thorin growled his response in the same language. In only a few moments every member of the Company that was with us had joined in the fray, and not a single one of the bothered to speak the common tongue or perhaps offer me a clue as to what was being said.

                It seemed to take ages for them to all settle down, but when they finally did, they all seemed at least vaguely calmer, or at least perhaps willing to talk.

                “Have you all finished shouting now?” I asked, after a moment or two, and Balin elbowed Thorin in the side.

                “I’m sorry, Bilbo, I know the dragon’s actions have nothing to do with you—I should not have suggested that you were to blame for it, I am only… I’ve been told that perhaps we should try this negotiation, if the beast knows you and has a fondness for you, and perhaps resolve this without further death or fighting. I would suggest that we stay on the stairs by the door, however, that we might escape should it act as if it plans to attack.” He spoke lowly, and his reluctance was more than obvious, but he was nothing if not honest; he wouldn’t take the concession back.

                “I understand, Thorin; don’t worry over it. Shall I lead the way?” I smiled faintly, and he returned it, brushing his hair back from his face and shaking his head.

                “We’ll go together. A king should travel at the side of his diplomat and all that,” he said, and I couldn’t hold back a little laugh. I wondered what the dwarf I’d met so long ago when he stormed into my house would say if he knew that one day he’d call the grocer-hobbit he wanted no responsibility for his diplomat, and only wished I could see the tantrum that would surely occur. It’d be legendary, I was certain of it.

                The thoughts of that were a nice distraction as we walked deeper into the mountain again, back to the treasury, but as soon as Smaug saw us again, any hope I had of distracting myself fled. He chuckled again, standing and stretching and edging towards where we stood on the stairs, amber eyes swirling with amusement.

                “Well, well, you never cease to surprise me, hobbit. How did you manage to convince them to negotiate with the beast that stole their treasures?” Thorin clenched his jaw, probably trying to let me talk at least a little before he exploded towards the dragon as he surely desperately wished to.

                “They don’t want more bloodshed, Smaug. We’ve all seen enough of that on this journey, and before it. They only want their home back.” The dragon laughed at that, but it was not like the other times I’d heard him laugh. This was cold and dim and dull, no smoke on his breath or sparks on his tongue.

                “Their home you say? I’m sure if I offered them their gold and their gems now they would leave without a care for the mountain beyond how to carry the treasures away. Dwarves are such greedy creatures,” he sighed, and I could feel the tension radiating from Thorin and the others. Fingers were already twitching towards weapons—I’d assumed the talk would collapse, of course, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t happen so quickly.

                “Smaug, you should not make presumptions when you don’t know the dwarves about which you’re presuming, and Thorin, please try not to let your anger get the better of you. We can resolve this peacefully, I’m certain of it.”

                “I presume, Bilbo, only because I have seen enough of dwarves to know that they are all the same,” Smaug hissed, his voice settling over Thorin’s like oil to water.

                “That beast is the reason for all I and my people have suffered. Perhaps I do not want a peaceful end.” I felt myself tense—the other dwarves shifted, waiting only for Thorin’s word to attack. Smaug swayed a little where he stood, head lowering some and eyes narrowing, faint glow burning low in his chest.

                “You said you wanted to negotiate, Smaug, and Thorin, you said you were willing to try. Smaug, please, under what terms will you concede the mountain?” The dragon seemed to sigh and I imagined the mountain shook with it.

                “You may look a bit like a dwarf, hobbit, but I have never known a creature so different from one. There is no greed in your heart, is there? No lust for the gleaming treasures of this mountain or any other. It’s a strange thought, but in some ways I find it interesting. Pleasant, even. Simplicity is something I lack, after all.” I saw Thorin’s jaw clench, and he pawed at his side for the lost Orcrist, finding instead only the weak blade taken from Laketown.

                “Get to the point, dragon.” Smaug seemed to roll his eyes, lowering his head even more and edging closer to us, until Thorin and I both could’ve reached out and touched him.

                “Why the rush, oh great king under the mountain? Your treasures will not flee the mountain in the few extra moments I take to speak! Still, if you are in such a hurry, then here are my terms: if you wish me to leave this mountain, then you must allow me to stay for a time. I will wear the form of a man, and should you wish it I will even help you repair the damage I have done, or I will live in the dungeons, or in some sort of magic prison should you wish to have the Wizard you traveled with for a time build one to hold me. I will remain for two months, and my main request is that the hobbit stay here at least as long as I do. After the two months pass, I’ve a choice I would like you to make, oh mighty king Thorin, though I will not yet say what that choice will be.” Surprise did not even begin to describe what I felt at those words.

                “Why, dragon? What do you have planned?”

                “Nothing that could result in the second loss of your mountain, I assure you. Admittedly, I’ve grown bored of it. Perhaps I would even have left of my own will after a time, but now that you have sent the hobbit of my past to me again, how could I simply leave? I am curious, after all, and there were many things I could not ask that night when he and his family aided me.” Thorin growled and the sound rumbled low in his throat.  I thought he might’ve made a passable dragon himself if one only heard his voice.

                “But you admit you have a plan.”

                “Who doesn’t? The earth moves on plans—everyone makes them every day, even if they are only as simple as getting out of bed. I swear that I will not cause any of you harm, in any case, and if that is not enough for you then you may leave or die here. I care little.” I could see Thorin preparing to refuse, and probably to do it quite spectacularly, and settled a hand on his arm, shaking my head.

                “It’s alright, Thorin. I know that he is certainly not simple to trust, but for this… just for a while, hm? We’ll try it, and soon dwarves will be coming here from miles around and should he try anything we will have more defense should he break his word.” For a while, Thorin fell thoughtfully silent, and a simple glance showed me the differing opinions amongst the company. I thought for certain that he would refuse, honestly, but I suppose I should have known better than to think too little of him.

                “I agree to your terms, dragon,” he finally murmured, and for a moment, one might have heard a pin drop in the treasury. And then, Smaug flashed his teeth and began to change once more into the shape of a man, just as he had been the night I and my family saved his wing.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know this chapter is kind of insubstantial, but I just wanted to get something up this week, so this is what I managed. Next week I should have something longer with a little more plot development!

The company found clothes that would fit the dragon with blessed speed, and led him just as quickly from the treasury and into a destroyed entryway that had surely once been grand. Smaug went without protest, though he did roll his eyes at the heavy hands pushing against his back, as if he really would've let them move him if he didn't wish to let them. I followed after them though, unsure as to the reason for his terms but unwilling to ask for fear that they might be revoked. I supposed that I could only hope that my home would yet be standing after another two months, although I doubted that Lobelia had let it sit quietly empty for so long. If anything my silver would probably be gone when I returned, and it'd take ages to get it back. I sighed quietly as the Dwarves shoved Smaug into a corner, and though the dragon did growl, it sounded far less threatening from the throat of a man than that of a beast. His teeth still seemed to have a deadly point to them, though. 

"I'm meant to stay here, then?" he asked, brows raised, and Thorin grunted. 

"For now. We will find a better place after a cursory search of the treasury." Smaug laughed, tilting his head back against the wall and staring at the ruined ceiling. I glanced at it too, marking the places where flame or tooth or claw had caught, the faint nicks of arrows that had flown towards him in his single-minded flight. For the first time I realized how easily the same devastation could have befallen my Shire and shuddered. 

"Oh, yes, your Arkenstone. I had nearly forgotten the taste you Dwarves had for that pretty little stone. You know it will drive you mad, don't you?" Thorin snarled and took a half step forward, with only Dwalin's hand on his arm to hold him back. 

"I am not my grandfather." Smaug only smiled, dark, bitter mirth swirling in the gold of his eyes. 

"Have you need of the hobbit in your search? If you don't, I should like it if he kept me company." 

"If he is willing to stay then he may." It had been a long time since I'd heard Thorin's voice so cold, but at least, I supposed, it was not directed at me any longer. Still it worried me, though, and judging by the faces of my friends, I doubted that I was the only one. I struggled to swallow; my throat was tight and my mouth dry. When I spoke, the words had to be forced.

"I imagine I won't be of much help to you in looking; I can move less than you all at my strongest, and I'm quite tired. I'll join you after I've rested some." They nodded, turning slowly, forever unwillingly, back towards the treasury. Smaug stretched leisurely and gestured for me to sit beside him, which I did, though I admit to squirming some. Shape of a man or not, he still had the presence of a dragon, and I doubted that anything would ever change that. I coughed. He stared at me, eyes burning into my skin like brands.

"Seems a funny thing for you to request, staying here with me when they'd surely have let you have nearly anything to get you out." I almost couldn't believe how calm, how matter-of-fact, I sounded, and was only able to be glad that Smaug only seemed amused by the things I said rather than angry. After all, I didn't think he was any less able to kill me as a human than he'd been as a dragon.

"It's not so strange, really. You're interesting, more so than treasures and mountains and dwarves. I have met many in my life, but never one quite like you." He spoke quietly and calmly and sounded not at all how I'd have once expected a dragon to sound, but it was a pleasant surprise in the end. I clasped my hands and stared down at them, wishing for something to turn around my fingers.

"I'm only a hobbit, and a simple one at that." He settled a hand on my chin and tilted my face up, had my eyes meet his and I wanted nothing more than to look away from the blaze, too bright to be confined in so small a space. He had changed since that night in the Shire. I supposed that I had as well.

"Somehow I think that that is what makes you special, Bilbo Baggins. You were not afraid of me that night, Bilbo, and you stayed at my side all night though I could've killed you easily. Your parents were afraid. They helped me because you wished it, because you thought that I was worthy of help despite what I was. I know of not one other who would have done what you did so fearlessly." I laughed, nervous and too loud and desperate to stop when it went on a moment too long, but entirely unable to do it.

"I was afraid, just as I am afraid now. I am not so good as you'd like to believe, Smaug." He didn't let go of my chin, but his eyes softened and I felt suddenly able to breathe again.

"Better than you believe, and that makes you greater still. Good enough, obviously, that I was willing to give away a mountain of treasures for two months spent getting to know you." I snorted.

"I'm sure flattery has gotten you much, Smaug, but it's of little use to me. You asked for two months here with me, yes, but you had another price as well that's yet to be spoken." He let me go, shrugging, sharp teeth flashing in the hall's lowlight as he grinned.

"You cannot fault me for trying, oh hobbit. Even still, my other price relates to you as well, but no matter the wide, sweet eyes you turn to me, I will not tell it to you yet either, for fear that you will betray my evil plots to your Dwarven king." I crossed my arms, brows raising, and shook my head.

"Evil plots, you say? Well, I expect I'll have to tell him now, even if I don't know the details!"

"Ah, how could I have let such a detail slip? You've bested me, clever beast!" He pressed the back of one hand against his forehead, as if he were feeling faint, and I laughed, loud and true.

It felt good; it had been a long time since I'd been able to laugh so openly. In a way it made me feel as if our quest were really over, that we'd really been successful, though still I didn't forget that Smaug was hiding things, that he was deceitful and deadly ancient. Gandalf would probably curse every last one of us for making a deal with him, but I saw no way around it. This way, at least, there would be no more bloodshed, and though Smaug predicted madness, without a fight we could best that as well. We would be alright. "You look worried, dear hobbit."

"No. No, Smaug, I am sick of being worried. Instead I've decided to be hopeful," I murmured, and felt his heavy hand settle on my head, fingers running lightly through my hair before he pulled away.

"I have never been a fan of hope myself, but I would be glad if yours were not misplaced. Now, I would like to talk of the Shire some, if you don't mind. How is the garden I landed upon? Have you gotten rid of those dreadfully sharp rocks?" I grinned. Yes, there was certainly reason to hope, now, and I would not let it go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this is another short chapter, which I'm super sorry for, but they'll start getting longer with the battle, and all the rebuilding and stuff that'll be going on after that, where more of the drama and super plot stuff will start happening. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

                No one reemerged from the treasury for hours, and even when some did, it was only to offer the rest of the Company, who’d arrived from Laketown, some time to rest, and, of course, to learn what had happened in their absence, given that obviously no one had told them what was happening when they arrived. In case of any confusion as to why I knew that, all of them immediately attempted to draw weapons, even the obviously still injured Kili, who gave me not even a moment to speak before he started talking.

                “Balin, why is there a strange man in our entryway cuddling with our hobbit?” He said it with an unfamiliar blandness, eyebrows raised, arrow knocked in a small, feeble looking bow. Fili propped him up with one arm and brandished a sword with the other. I’d have thought that perhaps Bofur and Oin would have more sense, but they too were waving weapons around, if not as… passionately as the two younger ones. I sighed.

Smaug snorted, leaning forward, animal golden eyes swirling dangerously as he opened his mouth and let his tongue flicker over carnivore teeth. All the dwarves but Balin took a half-step back, breath seeming to stop in their throats, then looked to be preparing to charge before I stood and got between them.

                “Settle, settle. This is Smaug, but we’ve struck a bargain—he’ll do us no harm.” Fili and Kili gaped, whilst Bofur’s arm lowered slightly. Oin, on the other hand, was rather more eloquent.

                “Aye, lad, so he says. I expect a bit of dwarven steel through his heart would make that a little more certain.” Smaug snarled, and I was under no delusions as to precisely how much he wished to show them how bad an idea that would’ve been. I cleared my throat, turning to glance at him, and he settled some, though obviously unwillingly.

                “I assure you, there is no need; Thorin himself agreed to his terms, and he’ll be a great help once you all start rebuilding, I’m sure.” Oin looked bothered, but Thorin’s name settled him enough that he put his weapon away—he trusted Thorin’s judgement, after all, as Balin did. The other three, however, would obviously be faintly more difficult to convince, and I wished for a moment that they’d been present as well for whatever fight Thorin and the others had had outside the mountain before the deal was made.

                “And how’d the beast get Thorin to agree to its ‘deal?’” Bofur asked, not even the faintest hint of teasing in his voice, and that, admittedly, unnerved me quite a bit. After all, even when he’d been teasing me about incineration back at the beginning of our journey there had been a note of humor to his tone, though I hadn’t noticed it at the time, but this… this was different, and that worried me some. I forced a smile.

                “Neither side wanted more bloodshed, Bofur, that I’m sure you understand.” He swallowed stiffly, like it hurt, and finally managed a smile of his own, nodding and lowering his own weapon as well.

                “I do indeed. Getting so far just to get incinerated would be a sorry thing, wouldn’t it?” I chuckled, nodding lightly.

                “Indeed; that was the part of the contract I was most dreading.” I glanced at Smaug, who looked painfully confused, then back at the boys, who still seemed wary, both still holding their weapons up and sparing glares to Bofur and Oin and Balin, as if they were somehow consigning me to fiery death by doing as I asked. They were both certainly Thorin’s nephews, none could ever possibly doubt that.

                “Bilbo,” Kili began, before Smaug heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head.

                “Stop being so foolish. I am not going to hurt the hobbit—I’ve been out here with him for hours already, and as you can see, no harm has befallen him. One would think if I wanted to kill him, or any of you, for that matter, I’d have already done it.”

Of course he couldn’t stay quiet. Why in the world would I dare think that, perhaps, the dragon would allow me to deal with the very skilled dwarves pointing sharp objects at it? Really, that was just the silliest thing! Really why even try talking at all? Surely just letting them brawl until they managed to kill each other would just work so much better.

                “Shut up, dragon,” Fili bit, Kili nodding in agreement, and for a moment I desperately wanted to hit all of them.

                “I dare say that there’s much that might go more smoothly if you’re all quiet for a moment.” For once, at least, they listened, and I nodded to myself, half-proud. The Bilbo Baggins I’d been before probably would’ve fainted at the mere thought of telling two dwarf princes and a dragon to be quiet while he spoke. Oddly, I felt more than a little like a schoolteacher. “Good. Now, Fili, Kili, Smaug is a guest for now; he agreed to leave the mountain to you all after two months, under the condition that I remain those two months as well. There is, of course, a catch, and though he’s not revealed that to us as yet, he’s sworn that it will bring none of us harm, and I’m inclined to trust him. I did not know this upon leaving for our quest, but I’ve met him once before. If you’re curious to hear the rest, come here and sit quietly and I’ll tell it. If you aren’t, come here anyway and put those weapons away—all of you look bone tired and you’ll be of no use to anyone that way.”

                It was silent for a few more moments, but then that wasn’t precisely unexpected; what was unexpected, though, was when they actually listened, shuffling around and settling in a half-circle around the place where I’d been sitting, still staying as far from Smaug as they could. Balin grinned at me, inclining his head.

                “It seems you have this situation well in hand, Bilbo. I’ll tell Thorin; the rest of us ought to be out in another hour or two, alright? Then we’ll have a good dinner and get some rest for morning. Perhaps then we’ll be able to start planning the rebuilding.” I smiled, pleased that I didn’t seem to be the only one with a good outlook on the coming days, and settled back where I’d been, raising an eyebrow at the dwarves seated around me, who gestured for me to speak.

                With that, I fell into the story of that night so many years ago, making certain to go into excruciating detail about the parts that embarrassed Smaug, like the treacherous garden stones and the deadly hobbit woman cleaning his wounds. The pouty glare I got for it was certainly worth it for making the other dwarves less frightened of him, and perhaps more willing to accept that he seemed to want to make peace with them, however unsteadily.

                The others settled around us too when they returned, and when we ate it was with merry songs I hadn’t heard in a while. Even Smaug seemed vaguely amused at their more bawdy tunes, though he feigned annoyance most of the night and leaned determinedly against my side, sometimes prodding at me and mumbling in my ear until I agreed to lead them in a quieter song. I imagine I laughed more that night than I had in months. Given how the rest of the quest had gone, I suppose I should have expected the elven army that appeared outside the very next morning, sudden as morning mist and more than twice as deadly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, next chapter will be the battle, and then after that the rebuilding will start, as more of what Smaug is planning sets in. Hope you enjoy!

                Thranduil called to us loudly from outside Erebor, demanding that Thorin come to meet him. The dwarf lord’s face turned dark, his teeth flashing behind his lips, blue eyes cold as ice. I caught his sleeve as he tried to stride past me, and he jerked, snarling down at me. All that did was make Smaug growl and drag himself to his feet. He towered over all of us and his eyes bit like fire. He didn’t need to exert even the faintest traces of effort to snatch Thorin’s arm from my hand and grip it tightly enough that I imagined it had to hurt.

                “I care little of your feud with the elf lord, but don’t dare take it out on Bilbo, who is only trying to stop you from doing something foolish, as it seems he often must.” Thorin took in a deep, shuddering breath, eyes closing for a moment before he nodded towards me.

                “Apologies, Bilbo. I’m only tense.” He said it more like he was trying to convince himself, and Smaug’s eyes narrowed, but still he stepped back, shrugging.

                “As you say. I will follow you in your discussions with the elf; perhaps my presence will dissuade you from acting like such a dwarf.” Thorin obviously thought of saying something, but in the end, he stayed silent and nodded, leading the dragon outside the mountain and staring down the elven army.

                I couldn’t hear what was said clearly, but Thorin spoke loudly and the anger was clear in his tone. Smaug too was loud, but there was no anger there, only authority. Thranduil I couldn’t even hear, really, beyond a few snippets of his voice, and I wished desperately that I could get closer but there was no way to sneak away from the others and put on my ring.

                Armor clanked outside, the familiar sound of bows being drawn, and I held my breath. Thorin got louder, loud enough that I could finally make out what he was saying, though by then it was nothing but angry, bitter curses. My heart stopped; Smaug spoke hurriedly, still low and strong, and at last Thranduil raised his voice some too. I wriggled where I sat, the other dwarves huddled tight around me as we all tried to figure out all that was happening.

                For a moment, everything fell silent, and my only consolation was that I heard no sounds of arrows flying. Finally, very slowly, Thorin and Smaug reentered the underground city, the both of them with clenched fists and heads held high and proud. I doubted that either of them would’ve appreciated the comparison, but there was an air of nobility to both of them, pride and the might to back it up in equal measures.

                “Balin, Dwalin, come help gather some gold. Apparently they’re quite determined to collect on a debt I do not recall, but we have more than enough. Parting with a few bags to get them to leave should be little trouble.” I could hear the effort in Thorin’s voice as he spoke; I could hardly breathe. Smaug came and settled beside me again, edging the dwarves who’d taken his spot out of the way and tossing an arm over my shoulder. Balin and Dwalin left for the treasury with hardly a sound, Thorin following after them with his back straight and his hands clasped behind him.  

                “Perhaps you were closer to right about him than I imagined, Bilbo. I did not think that he would agree to give up even a single piece of that treasure.” I snorted, still shaking a little, and rolled my eyes. I smiled mainly in an attempt to reassure myself that all was well, even if it felt false on my own face.

                “See? It’s best not judge with no knowledge; if the dwarves had done that, after all, they’d have tried to kill you and not heard a word you said.” He laughed, loud and long, fixing his stare on the other dwarves around us and shaking his head.

                “Don’t be foolish; had you not asked it of them, they’d have fallen upon me with their blades faster than I could blink. I was not attacked and a deal was made for your sake alone; perhaps they are not as cold as I’d imagined, but they’ve yet plenty of time to prove me wrong, and there are things here far more valuable than a few little bags of gold.” Kili crossed his arms tightly about his chest, glaring more at the ground than Smaug himself, and at least he was acting a bit more like himself, even if only to be angry with Smaug.

                “Should we see that as a threat?” Smaug stretched, cat-like and graceful, but his eyes were narrow still and his shoulders were tense.

                “Trust me when I say that I do not _threaten_ ; that only gives a warning as to what will happen, after all. If I wished to harm you, I would simply do it, and though I admit you tempt me, I’ve made a promise and I keep my word.” Kili, bold as ever, turned his angry stare straight to Smaug’s face, chin defiantly high even as he shifted and flinched because of his injured leg.

                “I’ve made no such promise, dragon.” Smaug shrugged.

                “And I made no agreement to not defend myself, dwarf. If you attack first, I will kill you.” He said it as lightly and easily as one describing the weather. I sighed.

                “Both of you, stop it. I suspect we’ve better things to do than start fighting amongst ourselves. He will not hurt us, Kili; if you refuse to take his word, then take mine.” The young dwarf smiled, then, but it did not entirely reach his eyes.

                “You trust too easily, Bilbo.” I’d been told as much before, in my younger days, but it had been so long that I’d almost forgotten how the words made my heart ache. Still I didn’t see how it applied then; Smaug had let myself and my family live once, even helped us, and he’d given no sign that he would betray his word now. I smiled, planning to speak and explain as much, but Smaug spoke again before I could.

                “That’s quite true, I’d expect. He is kind, and has always been so judging by my first experience with him. I’m sure that has burned him more than once and I assure you that his excess of trust for you all bothers me precisely as much as his excess of trust for me bothers you. Still, he has saved my life more than once, and I owe him for that.” Fili edged forward, mumbling something in his brother’s ear, and the younger dwarf finally nodded, lips twitching up and eyes shining with amusement. Fili, when he pulled away, looked much the same, if slightly more sedate.

                “Alright,” Kili said, shrugging. “I can accept that.” He’d only needed a reason, then, something more than trust and good will. In a way, I almost understood; Smaug was a dragon. There were not many legends that spoke of them doing anything for nothing. Perhaps it was even true, but somehow, as Smaug leaned a little more firmly against me, yawning, head dropping on my shoulder, I suspected that there was more going on than only a debt.

                “Don’t think we’ll go easy on you now, though,” Fili said, the other dwarves nodding, and Smaug huffed. Almost without my consent, I felt myself trying to smile.

                “I wouldn’t dream of it.” A few minutes later, Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin returned from the treasury with the gold. Smaug dragged himself up, cracking his back on the way, and took what Balin and Dwalin carried so he could follow Thorin outside again. I smiled, lightly and mostly to myself, while the dwarves crowded around me again, more determinedly this time. Whenever Smaug returned, I supposed, he’d have a bit more of a fight to get his spot back. I chuckled; never before would I have imagined the thought of a dragon pouting funny, or vaguely cute, but much had changed in the last months, and I could not bring myself to be upset by that.  

                There were no raised voices outside, that time, not at first, and when I first heard someone yelling, I recognized the voice immediately as Gandalf. What worried me more was the one word I heard clearly: orcs. Smaug stormed back inside in an instant and pulled me thoughtlessly from the dwarves, not bothering to even play at annoyance, and I knew then that it had not been a mere passing mention. I caught sight of Thorin sweeping inside, even if it was only a glimpse from over Smaug’s shoulder, but even with that it was easy to tell that he was bothered.

                “Gandalf says that there are orcs coming. The dragon agreed; smelled them on the wind when it changed. The elves say they will stay and fight, but we cannot rely only on them for fear that they will turn and run as before. I sent Gandalf to give word to the men; hopefully fear will spur them to fight. I’ve also sent word to the Iron Hills. I know not if they will arrive in time, but we will need as many as possible. Come, we must search the treasury for armor.” There would be war. After everything, still there would be war. All we’d done, every step we’d taken… I clenched my hand in Smaug’s shirt, and he sighed, clutching at me a little more tightly.

                “I will protect you,” he said, firm and serious, and I shook my head.

                “I don’t need it. Help me protect them, and yourself.” I could hardly even hear my own voice, but he seemed not to have any trouble.

                “I will do all three.” I gripped him like a lifeline, staring at my dwarves and then into his eyes. His lips were pressed thinly together and his jaw tense. I smiled, nodding once, firm and certain. Smaug kept his word. Not entirely certain why, I stretched and pressed a soft, quick kiss against his lips, too fast for the dwarves to see, and he grinned like a fool.

                “Thank you.” His smile took a long while to fade. It was a warm moment, and a pleasant one, one I somehow knew I would hold forever in my heart. Smaug kept his word; we would all be alright, even as the haze of war fell over Erebor. I squirmed, and he let me down to help in the search for armor while he, Thorin, and the others who had experienced a battle in a war before sat together to plan. I nodded to myself resolutely as I dug through the treasure piles; we’d fought too long and too hard to have anything but a joyous ending, and I would do whatever was in my power to see it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I can say nothing but I'm incredibly sorry at how long this took. Honestly I just sort of lost inspiration for a bit and needed a break to work on other things, but I'm ready to come back to this fic now! I hope you all enjoy! Next chapter starts the restoration, and the struggles with the gold that've thus far been prevented by necessity.

                I heard the orcs before I saw them; their war-drums cracked the silent air, and their armored boots rang against the frozen earth. The elves shifted uneasily outside; the light armor they wore clicked against their bows, or their neighbors’ arms. Inside, I stood between Thorin and Smaug, the others behind us and dressed for war. A full army of dwarves led by Thorin’s cousin marched towards us from the opposite side as the orcs, and just behind them came the men who marched out of sync in armor that did not fit. Bard led them, grim-faced as ever; I hoped for his safety with all the desperation of a child. No one spoke. Fili and Kili looked like actual princes, like adults, and though Ori’s brothers looked to be trying to shelter him, he stood just as tall and proud as the others.

                Smaug squeezed my shoulder; he wore no armor. He would, after all, fight as a dragon, not a man. Thorin, at my other side, wore the armor of a king. He looked distant and untouchable; he’d always carried himself like royalty, but crown atop his head carried a strange, certain weight. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as the noise outside grew steadily louder. When I opened them, Thorin was in front of me instead of beside me, holding out a rather intricate, pretty mail shirt.

                “Thorin?” I asked, and he shook his head, glancing at Smaug.

                “I found this while helping to search for other usable armor. It is mithril; it can be pierced by no blade or arrow. I know that you are no warrior, but I would have to stay safe in the coming battle; take it.”

                “How could I?” I asked, soft, glancing at all the others, and Smaug snorted.

                “You are the only one small enough for it. In any case, I’d prefer you remain alive as well for various reasons. If only I thought the flight would be gentle enough that you could hold on, I’d keep you with me in the sky.” Under the weight of his and Thorin’s stares I could do nothing but don the armor, though I felt a bit silly with it on, the way it fell loose around my neck and hung almost to my knees. Still, it was easy to move in, so light as to feel almost nonexistent, and it obviously settled everyone greatly to see me wearing it.

                Outside, the elves let their first arrows fly, and at Gandalf’s call, my dwarves began to march outside, Thorin strong and noble as ever at the head of the group. Smaug held back for a moment, taking me tightly into his arms and pressing a kiss to my lips as soon as the dwarves were too far away to see him do it. He felt tense.

                “Be safe, Smaug,” I murmured, and he laughed.

                “I am a dragon. You are the one who should be wary, little hobbit; when I return, I expect to find you well here.” I said nothing; I didn’t want to lie to him, but I wouldn’t simply sit there if I thought my help was needed. Smaug laughed again, shaking his head, bitterness hanging about him like a fog. “At least return quickly when the battle is done so I don’t have to be aware of how many Orcish blades you dived in front of for those dwarves.” I smiled, hand light on his cheek.

                “Be safe,” I said again, taking one more kiss before he strode from the fortress. Without fanfare, his human shape melted away to the dragon again, and he took flight. I counted to five before I slipped on my ring and ran outside to find the company.

* * *

 

                I felt my heart pounding bitterly as soon as I stepped outside; I hadn’t realized how much sound the mountain had muffled. The orcs fought without care for themselves, using their numbers to swarm the other armies, dying in droves yet replacing each orc that fell with three others ready to fight. I couldn’t see the end of them, and Sting felt small and fragile in my hand no matter how excitedly it hummed.

                I breathed deeply, swallowing, hoping to loosen the tight ache in my throat. Metal clanged wildly against metal and flesh and bone, and at that moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised if all of Middle Earth ended. An elf fell dead at my feet, and the orc that had killed him roared like an animal, uncontrolled and primal. Thoughtless, I swung Sting. The orc fell, and the world that had been in slow motion sped back to normalcy. I jerked Sting free and started running in the direction I’d seen my dwarves march, killing what orcs I could as I ducked under wild swings of swords and stray arrows. I still felt a few hit me, tearing through my jacket and shirt and bouncing off the mithril coat. I tried not to think of how quickly I’d have died without it and the ring.

                I heard my dwarves before I saw them; their battle cries were rather… distinctive, after all. I smiled to myself; Smaug’s fire arced through the sky over a new squadron of orcs in the distance. I ducked between a human’s legs and on the other side found my friends fighting and cheering as orcs fell around them. I ducked into the fight, helping where I could, and followed them wherever they walked.

                It seemed as if things would be alright, for a time; I kept any of them from being snuck up on, helped keep them from being overwhelmed, but then… then they split up, some staying to fight and some going to investigate a signal flag on a hill. Somewhere, Smaug roared and another plume of flame lit the sky.

                I felt as if I were tearing my heart into three, but in the end, I followed the group that left with Thorin and prayed it was the right choice. I expected it was as soon as we reached the hill’s peak; it was eerily silent, like death, and there was no sign that an Orcish signaler had ever been there. That it was a trap sparked in my mind at about the same time as it did Thorin’s; I jerked my ring off to speak at about the same time that he opened his mouth.

                Every last one of them looked horrified; during better times, it might’ve been a bit funny. As it stood, Thorin only said what I’d been thinking, and I nodded, eyes flashing around the craggy, icy hilltop. There were so many places for orcs to be hiding, to be waiting to ambush us; I disliked the paranoia and wondered how long my friends had had to suffer it. Thorin almost had Fili and Kili split from us to explore a small cave system, but the idea of splitting up frightened me, and though it almost surprised me, Thorin listened when I advised against it and had them remain with us instead. Slowly, as one unit, we crept forward, me slipping my ring on again as we walked; if they were to surprise us, after all, I thought it best that we had one of our own, however slight a help I might’ve been.

                Despite expecting the ambush, it still surprised me when it happened. As though they wore rings of their own, three orcs appeared in front of us from nowhere, the pale orc Azog leading them. They didn’t bother speaking, rather falling on us with weapons immediately. Dwalin, Fili, and Kili took Azog’s underlings, while Thorin himself drew the massive orc himself away from them, determined to fight him alone. A strange mix of pride and annoyance swirled in me; Thorin Oakenshield was the stubborn, hard-headed epitome of every dwarven stereotype I’d ever heard in my life, but despite myself, he’d become one of the greatest friends I’d ever known.

                I followed the two in silence, Sting curled tightly in my hands, though for a while I only watched, as it seemed that Thorin was going to win. The orc didn’t fight fairly, though, and soon Thorin had been knocked to the ground, the orc ready to bring the heavy stone on a chain he’d been fighting with down on Thorin’s head. I lunged forward, Sting held clumsily in front of me, and buried the short-sword in the orc’s leg. He roared, and Thorin took the moment to roll out of the way instead. The stone struck ice instead of flesh, and I heard it crack ominously.

                Azog swung the blade of his arm wildly, trying to strike me blindly, and the stone arced through the air a few more times, always striking the ice. I couldn’t pull Sting free, and even if I’d left it, I couldn’t have gotten through the barrage of blows. The ice cracked again. Thorin jumped to safety, probably expecting that I’d long since done the same, and I squeezed my eyes shut. The ice gave way; for a moment, Azog stopped attacking, and I tried to use that moment to push off his body and climb free, but doing so told him where I was. His arm dug into my lower leg, and I couldn’t hold back a scream.

                Icy water flooded my mouth, and my whole body felt numb but for the screeching pain in my leg. When my eyes opened, I saw nothing but swirling blue, shadowed by the ring. There was no sense of up or down, and my lungs burned. I couldn’t think. I grabbed my leg, trying to free myself, but I couldn’t tell if Azog was above me or below me and my thoughts grew evermore frantic. I could think only that I would die there, until I felt hands curl around the back of my shirt and pull me up.

                I screamed again as the blade left my flesh, blobs of black blurring my vison. The frozen air felt like more little knives under my skin. I coughed for what felt like hours and coats piled around me, loud voices speaking all at once until they were blurred into one mass of fear and desperation and worry. For a moment, the air around me sizzled, before my body finally gave in and I fell unconscious.

* * *

 

                When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was that I was warm, and someone was clutching my hand as if it were the cure to every ill of the world. The next thing I noticed was that my leg felt as if Smaug had stepped on it whilst in his natural form. I groaned, eyes opening slowly, and the world around me at last took shape.

                I was back in Erebor, settled atop multiple bedrolls and wrapped in layers of blankets. A fire crackled nearby, and I heard soft chatter I couldn’t quite make out. Smaug was beside me, human-shaped once more, my hand clutched tightly in his own. Though I expect he didn’t precisely want me to hear it, I heard him take in a sharp breathe. One of his arms was in a sling, and I saw the edge of a crisp, white bandage just under the collar of his shirt.

                “I seem to remember telling you to make it back here before me, so that I could pretend you weren’t throwing yourself in front of Orcish blades. Please do correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe a frozen hillside, soaking wet with a hole in your leg, is quite the opposite of that.” Even smiling felt like an effort, but I couldn’t resist the need.

                “And I seem to remember telling you to stay safe, yet there you sit with what I assume was an injured wing and chest. I suppose neither of us were too adept at following the other’s orders this day,” I said, my voice so low and dry that even I hardly recognized it. Even so few words made my throat throb. Smaug laughed; it sounded as if it hurt him too.

                “You’re right, I suppose, but that makes me no happier at how I found you. I thought you dead,” he said, and I squeezed his hand. I felt stiff, but even shifting my hurt leg made pain spark from the wound to the rest of my body.

                “I’m sorry. I couldn’t let anything happen to them, Smaug, but it’s over now. All of the Company is here as well?” He nodded. I smiled again, letting my eyes fall closed once more. “Then everything will be alright now. We’ve done it; they have their home back. That was all I wanted.” Smaug’s hand clenched mine a little tighter.

                “Yes. Rest, alright? The dwarves asked that I fetch them the moment you stirred, but I don’t think you’re fit for the party they’ve planned just yet. You’ll see them the next time you wake, my foolishly noble hobbit.” I wanted to respond, to joke and tease as I knew I would’ve the day before, but sleep dragged me down too fiercely. The last feeling I recalled was a soft press of lips against mine, and a soft whisper I might’ve only imagined. “I only hope they manage to prove worthy of the ending you’ve won them.”


End file.
